


Dance

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dancing in Starlight, F/M, Face-Sitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 15:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Instead, she meets his gaze with fire and mischief, and she unzips her sweater like they’re in no rush at all. “A different sort of dance.”“Oh?”“On a different sort of stage.” She finishes. And Akira knows, in that instant, that neither of them are leaving this room any time soon.





	Dance

For a moment, Akira stands clueless in the doorway.

When he sees Morgana strut out of Haru’s room like a child just given permission to raid the candy section at the corner store, his mind crashes to a halt and spills his thoughts entirely out of reach. It isn’t that Morgana being there is out of place. Not entirely. But Haru personally asked that he come by for a visit after their last dance, so seeing someone else leave just as he arrives is more than enough to throw him off balance.

It’s the soft touch of Haru, newly wrapped around one of his arms that finally pulls his thoughts back inside his own head and directs his attention toward her intended surprise. The familiar night sky of Tokyo shines in through her windows, and the entire bedroom is lit only by the waves of candles scattered from wall to wall. They cover every surface but the bed and the floor, and drench every inch of the room in that particular dim, pulsing light.

It’s nice.

Akira has no clue how Haru managed it, but then, this is supposed to be a dream, so maybe it wasn’t all that difficult.

“Come in, come in,” she hums like she’s keeping a secret, pulling Akira further inside. “Your favorite little gentleman just asked if I would join him on the dance floor once the two of us are finished, so we’ll have a bit less time for this than I’d hoped.”

Akira lets a grin twitch at the edges of his mouth as Haru sits him down on her bed. He sinks more than a few inches into the too-plush blankets spread across her mattress. “And what, exactly, is _this_?”

As if the sight of her lifting his blazer away only to watch it slide down his arms wasn’t answer enough.

Haru lets him joke, though, and she matches every inch of that teasing with her own little smirk when she pushes him onto his elbows. But she doesn’t follow him down. Instead, she meets his gaze with fire and mischief, and she unzips her sweater like they’re in no rush at all. “A different sort of dance.”

“ _Oh?_ ”

“On a different sort of stage.” She finishes. And Akira knows, in that instant, that neither of them are leaving this room any time soon.

The bed dips at his sides as Haru climbs up to join him, and she slides into his lap like it’s the only place in any world she wants to be. Akira can see in the candlelight how Haru’s pupils are blown wide. Bottomless pools of black stare back at him, lined by that familiar pale brown and swimming with a want so strong that it may as well be need.

The thought occurs that he should probably say something.

He settles, instead, for pulling her down to lie on top of him. His hands are in her hair and at her waist and everywhere, everywhere all at once; every inch of her that he can reach, and every inch that he can touch. Haru’s laughter rings out into the dark, as warm as the candles, as light as his heart, and the fingers she has scratching gently at his scalp don’t disappear or slow for an instant when their lips finally crash together. She tastes like coffee, and pastries, and something else his mind is already fading too quickly to place. Haru seems to realize the effect she’s having on him the moment it starts to happen, though, because when she pulls away, she’s giggling into the space between them all over again.

“We’re not in _that_ much of a hurry, silly.” Her voice tickles against the patch of skin beneath Akira’s ear. “After all, the first rule of dancing states that you should _never_ rush these things.”

Akira isn’t sure how to reply other than to smile, to laugh again, and let his head loll against the bedding beneath them. He lets his hands drop to settle at the swell of Haru’s hips, and he squeezes when her name spills out with the last fits of his laughter. “Well shit, Haru, I guess I’m in need of some instruction. Teach me this new dance?”

“I think I can do that for you, dear.” Haru teases as their smiles brush together. “After all, I’m the one who invited you to join me in this performance,” She kisses him again, soft, and light, and barely even there as she crawls off to sit on her knees at Akira’s side. “It’s the absolute _least_ I owe such a perfect gentleman.”

A palm rests on Akira’s chest, holding him in place as softly as Haru can while she worms her way out of her leggings. Her eyes don’t leave his for even a second. And by the time she’s climbing back into Akira’s lap, it feels like no time has passed at all. “Now Akira, it’s very important that you stay where you are until I give the word. Otherwise these instructions might become too difficult to follow.”

“I can handle that. Though, I’ve gotta say, this doesn’t seem like any sort of dance I’m familiar with – ”

“Oh hush, you.”

“ – but then, I’m just a lowly Phantom Thief, I’m nowhere near as educated on the finer things in life as you – ”

“ _Akira._ ” Haru smiles, cracking at the edges with laughter.

“ – and if you think we should dance on your bed… Well, then I’m putting my safety in your hands, Miss Haru. Please, teach me how to dance.”

Between the chorus of cackles – and they _are_ cackles, Akira realizes, because the aura that surrounds Haru in class, Haru in public, Haru in business, is finally completely gone and evaporated somewhere in the warmth of the candlelight – and the feeling of the halfhearted swatting at his shoulder, Akira barely notices when she brings herself down for another kiss.

“Now,” And Haru is still smiling against his mouth, trying to regain even the tiniest bit of control. “This dance relies very heavily on your tongue. Are you ready?”

Akira squeezes softly at her thighs, just barely lets his nails press into the skin. And Haru moves. She lifts herself up and crawls her way forward until she’s hovering, exposed, just above Akira’s face.

His smile never disappears, even when she finally settles into place. A breathy little _oh_ escapes her when Akira darts out his tongue in another silent response. And her fingers, like there was never anywhere else for them to be, tangle and fist within his dark curls.

“Just like that, darling…” Her head falls back as Akira’s tongue begins its work in earnest, and her fingers weave deeper into his hair when his own hands wrap around from behind and find new purchase on the backs of her thighs.

“Such… such a good dancer.”

The deep, husky chuckle Akira muffles between her legs is only half of what causes her to double over, he knows. His nails are digging into the skin of her thighs just the way she likes, and they’re raking down until his hands are on her ass, urging her closer and helping himself to find better angles to work his magic, to follow every spasm and movement her hips might make. Her moans only grow louder and stronger as he does.

“ _God – ”_ Haru nearly shouts. Her hands fist even tighter and dig even more firmly into Akira’s scalp. He isn’t entirely sure if being quiet matters in this dream of what used to be the Metaverse, but even if it did, he isn’t sure he cares. Not with the way Haru’s entire body is shaking and shuddering and moving. And the way Haru’s voice stutters and trembles and still finds ways to grow. A flick of the tongue, and she’s gasping for air. Lips adding pressure, and she’s rocking forward even harder against him. Teeth gently teasing, grazing along the inside of her thighs, and she’s biting down on her lip to keep her voice buried deep within her lungs.

The ways that he doesn’t care push Haru to abandon the act entirely. Her voice grows more and more desperate until all she can manage is Akira’s name, half-uttered and broken to pieces between her shivers and heavy breathing.

“Aki, Akira – oh, _oh, Aki…_ ”

Her hands, somehow, find ways to tighten even further in Akira’s hair. Until that dull throb she commands turns white-hot. Until she has him locked in place, and until the pulses pouring out from the tips of her fingers to every inch of his scalp are moving in tune with her hips.

“ _I’m… Akira – I’m gonna –_ ”

Akira’s fingers dig harder into her skin, matching her force as his tongue swipes over her clit, once, twice, and suddenly Haru’s hips jerk forward, and she collapses into the bedding beside Akira’s head. Haru writhes, gasping for air and burying silent screams in the mattress while her grip on Akira’s hair grows tighter, white-knuckled and trembling with the force shooting through her veins. Her moans and her gasps fill the empty space of the room like a candle blown out, slow and steady until nothing remains in the air but her.

And when she finally comes down, when she’s finally let her grip on Akira’s head fall away, she rolls onto her back completely boneless and totally out of breath. She watches lazily as Akira props himself up on an elbow, watches as he locks eyes with her and makes a show of wiping his mouth, flourish and all.

“Such a wonderful performance…” Haru finally manages. She’s not in any rush to move. “I have nothing… nothing left to teach you.”

Akira smirks. “You’re looking pretty beat, maybe I should go handle that date with Morgana in your place?”

“Nonono, just one minute. Besides, I sent him off in Ann’s direction.” She mumbles, reaching out to pull Akira closer. He presses a soft, slow kiss to her forehead when he’s finally settled in her arms.

Falling asleep inside of this particular dream might cause some issues, but then, it might not. Akira is more than ready to take that risk, as long as Haru is there with him.


End file.
